Go Die On A Wall
by TkLaMB
Summary: Post WW II. Prussia is still being terrorized by Russia. Next to that, he is confronted with his every day life. Rating may go up later on.


**Chapter 1 updated! Finally!**

Now some little Whining (you may skip this, it's just some blabla about how terrible I made this chapter and so on):

I am ashamed of this chapter, I read it a hundred times and changed many things, to make it more understandable (because of a certain Person. She knows that I mean her) and Uergh, here you got this little piece of sh- before I change my mind.

I apologize for making it so short, but if I were to write on, then there would be more than 10 000 words, so I decided to divide this sh-

And I hate writing in POV, just so you know.

(btw Press Strg + + to enhance the script if you can't read this properly)

Okay now,

**Pairings! **

I am not really sure about all parings, because I like them all, so I suggest you leave some reviews with your OTP and other ones. I shall include those with the most votes.

BUT, there will definitely be **GerIta **and **Spamano**.

Please give me some critique about how shitty I made it, too (or how beautiful, I don't know what you prefer °-°) and point out spelling mistakes if there are, etc,etc to improve my pitiful skills. But then again... whatever.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

I compare myself to a bird. Yes, I mean those elegant creatures flying freely whenever they want and to whichever places they desire to go. I always liked to watch them spread their beautiful wings, stretching them a little bit out to get used to the coming event, then swing themselves in the air with a little jump, a big swing and fleeing the ground where nothing but grief exists and the ravages of war slowly devour every bit of our earth..

However, if you just break their wings – although breaking one would perfectly be enough – they loose their most important and only ability that makes them unique and eventually die. Probably getting killed by a bigger bird. Or a snake. Or a human, either with the intention to end the pain of that poor animal or only to fulfill the law of the surviving: 'eat or get eaten'.

Birds are awesome. Just like me, which I have to mention, so you won't confuse me with some random – and unawesome – human you find at every damn corner on earth.

You must see that I'm an ex-nation, my identity long taken by the Allied Forces, who decided to get bitchy, just pointed their fingers at someone who _must _be at fault, because it's _their_ opinion and split me up, my ground taken by various countries (such as Poland – Yikes!). They broke my wings just like the ones of a bird. They stole everything that was unique about me and didn't even have the mercy to give me the final blow. I have endured much in my four-hundred-twenty-two-year-long-life, but this was the greatest pain I had ever been in. Imagine your body getting chopped off at various places without any warning (they had conferences before this, where me and my brother were excluded – not much like a proper judge if you know what I mean), imagine the pain being unbearable, but you are not able to die, and still nothing of your body left its place. Or just imagine being confined in an iron maiden, that'll do it, too.

After the War, I was forced to live under Russia's custody and got reclassified to Kaliningrad and the Eastern part of Germany for the time being. I am not a nation anymore, but some federal state belonging to someone, whose history was more than just scaring the crap out of me. I was utterly shocked, wanting to raise my voice against the decision, but I was cut off when I felt a hand on my left shoulder. The hand was icy, freezing cold, although the owner of it wore two pairs of gloves over it. It was as if he did not have any body temperature. I shuddered over the contact first and dared to look over to the oval shaped head, his big nose sticking out of his baby-face and his favourite scarf , he always wore, entangling his neck and partially obscuring his mouth, which was clearly formed to an innocent smile directed at the pile of rubble in front of us.

There was something that made me feel frightened about it, but I didn't know what it was.

And _of course _I wouldn't show any signs of fright, because _awesome _people like the magnificent me never do.

"They won't come for you. Not for you," he said solemny as I held back a shiver.

Only we were outside in this freezing weather, while watching how the white snow whitewashed the scarred surface of what was left from me, hiding the bloody ground with new and fresh white. _White means Beginning and Joy. You wear white in a wedding, _I thought.

I looked over the once beautiful land. And then I thought about my past. Everything I had built up vanished. Everything I loved, crumbled before me. The only thing that's left was-

"We have to go now. There's nothing that holds you back anymore. Not even your brother."

His grip tightened painfully over my already broken body. The war left me a bunch of broken ribs, a broken nose and arm and plenty of bruises spread all over my body. I didn't know if his hand was the reason I was still standing or my own will, which I assumed, was not the fact, but that was not important for me. I choked hard, nodded. As he turned me around I threw a last glance back.

I almost hoped that there would be an emotion coming from me. A little sign, that would say "Guys, I'm still alive and I will come back with my old shining brightness, cuz' I'm fucking awesome! I will make it!", as it always came after great suffering. Yet there was nothing. Not even sadness, or self-pity. Numb. I didn't care anymore about anything only wanting to forget all this, maybe even... forget that I existed. I only walked, didn't care to notice my surroundings, beside the taller Nation, didn't even care, where I was lead.

I was weak, my wounds ached with every step I took. The pain of my broken ribs came back to me even harder, which startled me a bit and made me wonder when I stopped feeling the throbbing pain. My wounds weren't treated with much care. I, the only one that could help myself at that time, showered myself in Alcohol I found in the remains of a pub and shuffled some bandages over my wounds. With one arm, while the other hang around in a weird angle.

"You're bleeding. The snow is all red," Ivan pointed out after a long while (I lost my sense of time), but I ignored him. _Well, shit happens_. Either you survive as a nation or you go down. Easy to remember, no?

As Russia gazed at me again with a slightly bothered look, I shrugged him away, continueing to walk, staring at no particular point.

As his hand left my shoulder, I felt the massive pressure going down at me. _I won't fall yet_, I said to myself, forcing my way through the snow while keeping a tantrum in my mind, which helped me to get through this.

_Step by step, step by step, step by step..._

Suddenly we both stood still and Russia, who moved between me and my path, held out his scarf and wiped the Blood off my face. My eyes widened, finally finding their focus on the Russian and searched for a reason in his face. He only smiled his soft smile.

"Why? Your favorite scarf," I managed to breath out. My voice cracked on account of the terrible cold and then I finally realized over my self-pitying thoughts that there was more to it.

Russia never smiled honest, he always faked to be fine, notwithstanding the situation of his people and himself got worse. The war against Nazi Germany was a very lenghty and costly war of survival for him. He suffered. And still became a super power. The smiling at his triumph never reached his eyes, though. They always seemed to be passive, cold. Cold as his land.

But here I stood before him and saw more than just a mere move coming from the edges of his mouth.

And his eyes. They called for me. And gave me a little spark of hope.

"You're going to pay me anyway, so it doesn't matter if you get some more debts."

I huffed and shouted, "Hey, that's not fair!"

He wrapped his now with red sprinkled scarf around his neck, took me suddenly by my hand and pulled me further, his laughing face looking at me. Slowly, a little bit hesitating, I took my guard down, sinking my shoulders slowly and let myself get dragged by him. At this moment I couldn't help myself but to grin cockyly and say

"Be grateful for my awesome presence, you creep."

"Prussia. _Prussia_... Gilbert!"

_Russia called my name, gently touching my cheek. If felt my blood stirring up. This must be a fucking dream. I would never act this way. Russia would never act this way._

"Go away, _West_," I mumbled half asleep, threw my pillow at him and wrapped myself tighter in the blanket.

Damn Germany, however, would not let loose, snatched the bedcover away and hissed in an unnerved tone: "Steh' auf, Bruder! Weißt du, wie spät es ist? Halb Sechs! If, you don't get up now, we'll be late for the World Meeting!"

I didn't move just to mock him, wanting to turn his awesome "wake-up-bitch"-face to an unawesome "my-brother-is-an-asshole"-face. So I just watched him, making faces, as his face turned incredibly red, his shoulders went up fastly and he balled his hands, then clenched his teeth.

"Oh brother, you don't want to hit me, do you? I already have bruises all over my body, just because of you," I sighed dramatically, my hand on my forehead, pouted and blinked over to him.

Dude, I must have looked so uke (or how Elizaveta lovingly called those gay guys who actually look like girls )!

"Don't try to make me look like a perverted old man!," he yelled, but his body slackened. Deciding not to use any force, he simply glared at me, folding his arms and looking expectantly.

"Oh no, your strategy won't work on me. Not this time!"

Here's a good explanation: as a child, Germany would always convince me to do things by asking and then neatly waiting. His strategy always worked on me. And I hated his face, so I wanted to make him stop, even if it meant to give him what he wanted. I am his brother, not his _mom, _alright?

West huffed and looked at me with determination, giving me the answer per (which I call) bro-message.

"Nein, West, aus!"

No need to say that he didn't listen to his big brother, then myself ended up dressing in front of West, without any care if he was watching. He's a man afterall and he has to face manliness (especially mine), which I think he forgets slowly, because of that damn Aristocrat. Said idiot recently spent more time here, freeloading off on us, like the damn tick he is. You can't even stay at your own home without worrying about the beer getting robbed by that damn Hurensohn!

Then suddenly, my most time taking thing came into my mind. I shouted out to West, without caring that he was actually next to me. And not deaf.

"West, what about my jobs, did you cancel them all?"

" Yes, damn it! Don't shout like that, idiot! I am next to you. You-, " he suddenly hissed. The awesome me, actually turned my revealed back to him while putting off my dirty shirt, startled as I heard him, and turned my head around.

You should have seen his face. It was beet-red, his nose wrinkled up in disgust and he stared at the other side of my room at those naked chicks on my wall. Sadly he didn't mind looking properly at them, but rather concentrated on the urge to not look back at me.

"West, you are so thick-headed, you know that? You don't resemble your bigger bro' even a bit. How many times did I tell you, if you can't stand watching me, just get out ," I replied dryly to his expression, while searching for a clean shirt in my room, which wasn't actually the cleanest since I came back to Germany (which was very long ago).

My exposed back showed deep scars caused by a whip. No need to say, that the sight was more than just disgusting.

He instead sighed, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, suddenly looking very tired. Some strands of his usually neat hair stuck out in various directions, some of them slid back to his forehead.

"It's just," he tried to wring out, his hands aimlessly moving around. I swear, you only see him like that if he is either drunk or being in the presence of Italy. Excluding the second term meant, that he must be drunk. That early in the morning. Briefly before an important meeting. _Now _he sounds more like me. I short out decided to share my thoughts with him.

"West~, you should stop drinking early in the morning. It's scaring the crap out of me, right now."

"I did not drink!," he snapped very upset. His face grew red. Like a damn tomato.

Ah.

"So that means... Italy is coming over?," I asked joyfully, while buttoning up one not-so-bad smelling shirt and flipping out a necktie from somewhere between my underwear ( I guessed they all needed to get washed soon).

"That's not the point!"

As I took out my trackies, I wiggled my nice ass seductively in his direction, making him blush with anger. Bromance. Yeah. That's what I thought until he smacked me in the back part of my head with his flat hand. I nearly fell over the pile of dirty clothes and (which I hadn't noticed so far) porn. Staples of porn from approximately nineteen-hundred...fifteen? Tears dwelled up in my eyes as I tried to regain my balance and after a short while I stated with a slightly higher pitched voice,

"You have become stronger. Did you train any time recently and maybe pointetly left out the beer? Are you insane?"

This time he kicked me into the pile of dirt. As I saw the huge nice bazookas of the it-girl of last month in a nearer sight, West shouted, "Damn idiot, I try to get serious and what are you doing? You're ruining it!," but then he calmed down quickly and continued after some in- and exhaling our 'talk'. I prepared myself for a very touchy sermon.

"_Preußen_, every time I see you, I just... feel angry and sad. I am angry, because I can't do anything to help you without endangering our people, and sad, because you endure all this suffering all by yourself. I always say to myself, that you will be okay, but when I see you coming back home, with all these new wounds and bruises, I- I, heck, I even doubt my own decisions!"

I shot out of my place, my eyes flashed in annoyance. I pointed my finger threatingly at him.

"Don't you _dare _say this _ever_ again! Our people always have priority above anything! You of all people should know that better, West!," I spat.

He frowned and looked away. "I know," he pressed out over his gritted teeth. Then he crossed his arms and raised his shoulders to show, that he felt offended. Hell, for the first time in like, years, he responded to me like that.

Most of the time, his reactions were only facial and didn't last long, because he didn't want me to see it. A man, who is getting pitied, is a lost man.

I must admit, that I was really in bad situations every now and then. My back was a good example for it, but after what seemed like years, I could barely recognize it over the pain I repeatetly felt. The only thing I now felt was numbness. And two weeks or so, the tip of something sharp had bored its way through my left foot, fortunately not having crushed a single bone. Only the fact that I got used to it and wasn't actually human, which meant that my healing procedure was much more faster, gave me the possibility to walk on it after such a short time.

Making my little brother worry made me think of myself as the worst big brother ever. Still, I have to be strong for both of us. Plus he already had too much on his shoulders.

And this time I couldn't give him delight with ice he loved to eat as a child so much. Today, I don't even know what prefers to eat, to wear or what makes him upset. Due to my jobs, I was rarely at home, thus missing the possibility of having a (maybe) wonderful relationship with my brother.

I stopped going to World meetings, after a long time. But the current chancellor insisted me to go.

And now here I was, preparing myself for my first meeting with the rest of the worls after_ years._ Not that I was excited. The awesome me would never get excited about such minor things, or even throw up the night before!

"Bruder," West began again. I was on the way to renew the bandage on my foot, inspecting its shade (which seemed pretty good, but who am I, a doctor?) and almost ready for departing (and since West insisted on making fast, I left out the shower, so I needed urgently some perfume or deodorant), as I looked up at him questioningly.

"What?"

"There's... something I need to tell y-," he got cut off as the door bell rang following by a joyfully shout of a particular and really really cute Italian.

"Doitsu~~!," Italy shouted, using the Japanese name of Germany. West, lacking to acknowledge the awesomeness of him, sighed deeply and replied,

"Coming."

He threw a last sorrowful glance back to me and went to the frontdoor to greet Veneziano.

Seriously, he should show him his respect more often, afterall Italy loved him deeply (even after all the scoldings he got for his immature way of acting).

As fast as I could, I put on my shoes and tried to hide some revealing places on my body, which might potentially show some serious injuries. Judging from his personality, I assumed that he would get upset over it and start crying. _How cute_, I thought infatuated. _Italy, of all people getting worried about the awesome that is representing myself!_

"Wo zur Hölle sind meine Handschuhe?," I mumbled to myself, forraging for my leather gloves in my room, all the while throwing out everything (was that a dildo between my clothes?) in various directions.

"Ve~. Where the heck is Prussia, we have to go now, " Italy's angel-like voice sang through the house.

Germany mumbled something in reply, which I couldn't understand, following by an excited yell coming from the Italian.

_Don't blunder everything up, West, or I'll catch him away from you, _I sang in my thoughts, but searching faster. As I heard small steps approaching my room very fast, I got a bit sweaty, but that was not (!) because my awesomeness felt cornered by the narrowing beauty of a state or such silly things that make _normal people_ upset.

"Aha!, " I gloriously shouted holding up my old black pair and quickly put them on, just as that sweet little boy entered my room with Gilbird on his right shoulder. God, he smiled brighter than a thousand watt light bulb!

"Ah, there you are, _Gilbert_! Ready for departion~?"

I tried to smirk my most geniuine smile - not that none of my usual smiles aren't geniuine – looking down at the smaller Nation and grabbed his left shoulder.

"Missed me?," I asked and tried to look as handsome as possible – not that the awesome me wasn't good-looking. Simply ridiculous!

"Yes!," Italy hyped up with such a sweet voice, that I had to fight back the urge to squeak like a perverted old man . "I haven't seen you for a very _very _long time after all!"

"Tjah, my awesome self has recently much work to do." And it is thanks to West's chancellor that I got a day off, I added in my mind. With the intention to sound like a gentleman I appended, "My apologies."

His face moved closer to mine. "No need to! I know that your Job,"(_ Jobs, _I adjusted mentally)," is always coming first to any _fun_ and _rest_."

"Oh, how right you are," I lied with a joyful expression, even though I felt like crying when I heard his words. How much I _longed_ for some rest!

"But everything got fine as I saw you," I said with a soft voice and put a stray ringlet behind his ear.

I noticed his small shy smile and Gilbird being unusually quiet.

"T-thanks, I guess," Italy replied, smiling widely, as we suddenly startled when we heard a hawk, which was coming from the door.

West! You damn shit, I was so close!

Said door was wide open with my damn little brother (he was redder than a tomato) standing next to it with a tense look.

While we both laid our eyes at him, he said, "Let's go. We are late."

Veneziano nodded in agreement, his face looked a bit terrified and left fast. I bet he was asking himself why West suddenly got so angry. Poor guy. He didn't know that Germany had fallen for his ass. And seeing how his awesome big brother went for it instead of him made him angry.

Gilbird chirped, jumped from his shoulder and flew over to my head.

I followed close by, until Ludwig placed a hand on my shoulder and looked menacingly at me. His face made me flinch. Not that I was frightened or his grip very strong!

"_Preußen, _we talked about this before. In court." West's eyes narrowed at that.

I smirked to hide my nervosity. "Oh come on, West. I was just trying to annoy you, I would _never -_"

"Gilbert!," he warned, his face getting redder and redder.

"Okay, okay," I respondet, putting my hands slightly up, wanting to placate him. After a few moments of glaring, he finally let go. I considered to shut my big mouth this time. Even if I liked to annoy the hell out of him, I rather choose to live than to die.

After a short while, we were on the road. I sat on the rear seats, eyeing West with great displeasure. He didn't let me drive. The awesome me wasn't allowed to sit behind the wheels of his _own_ car (Which was a nice yellow Audi R8 by the way)! "You're driving too fast," Germany explained without looking at me. Too fast! He, who sits next to the most brutally and murderous driving simple-minded guy with the looks of a chick!

"Stay calm, Gilbird," I murmured as I petted my baby chicken, not really knowing if the demand was actually dedicated to it. I was too upset to figure it out. Gilbird gave out a confused chirp.

By the way, why does it have the possibility to fly? I thought that _Hühner _couldn't fly.

I stopped thinking further about that, when Feliciano suddenly squealed like a pubertal boy, who recently got a changing of his voice.

"Ve~! Doitsu! They are playing my favourite song!"

It was_ Hips don't Lie by Shakira_. Yay. I was tipping for _Boys Boys Boys by Lady Gaga._

Now I owe Francis ten bucks. Great.

As I thought the day couldn't get worse I noticed my growing hunger. Great. I had forgotten to eat before. And West was definitely not going to stop by a gas station. Or McDonald's.

Before I died without getting something between my teeth, I decided to explain West my problem in a very calm and sophisticated way.

"I am hungry!," I whined.

"You're getting something, when we are at the meeting room," came the quick and sharp reply.

Meaning he didn't want to talk right now. Meaning he was pissed (which is a standard around Feliciano and/or me).

"I want something! Now!"

"Well, how about some bashing then, Bruder?"

"I want something to eat... please?," I corrected and ducked as a metallic object came flying at me. Gilbird gave a shriek as he jumped up to avoid the item. It was a battery. Not those small things that you use for some gameboy colour, in which you play some shit like Pokemon, but a giant one. Bigger and way harder than Gilbird.

"Can you shut your mouth, please?"

"Idiot", I mumbled.

"What did you say?"

"N-nothing!," I almost – almost! - feared that he would throw another one of those things (because I bought plenty of them yesterday) and that I couldn't dodge it like the first one.

As if on clue, Italy suddenly began to sing along with a song, which came after _Shakira_. His voice was horrible. Horrible as in 'I have to chop off my ears in order to stop listening to it'.

"At times like these, I really wish to work" I grumbled, getting slightly pissed over the unawesome sound I heard. Only slightly. "Ve! What makes you think that?" Feliciano asked, as he stopped to sing when he heard my voice. Instead he looked over his seat with his cute little eyes the music accompanying his moves in an awesome way and locked with my eyes. Damn, fuck my life, he's too cute and awesome (in contrary to his voice) to be mad at.

_Stop getting all France about it!, _my England-side shouted at me, which I didn't know that it existed.

But then he smiled widely, and turned back once West got all hysterical and shouted "Sit proper you idiot, do you want us all to die?"

Fuck. He smiled. Now I had to answer.

"It's – erm - ," I started, getting a little bit sweaty over the expectant silence.

"Doitsu, look, there is a giant tomato!" He suddenly shouted exitedly and pointed at a huge poster, which starled me first, but then I relaxed. _Man, how easy some giant placard can distract him._

After a while, everyone quieted down. I stared out the window, while the street and areas of green grass moved rapidly by. Meanwhile Gilbird snuggled himself on the seat, closed his eyes and moved his tiny chest slowly up and down. The tediousness and the rumbling of my belly made me sleepy. I leaned back in my seat and looked over to Italy, who was due to the lack of women and being a nervous wreck he becomes when there is no one to annoy, fast asleep.

Then I looked over to West. I assumed that he enjoyed the silence and didn't want to get disturbed. I closed my eyes, ignoring the outside influences and tried to slow down my breathing.

"Don't waste your time, we're already here," West said loudly and added, "Cold Pasta."

"Wha-," I started to say, but got interrupted by a certain Italian who suddenly started screaming, causing Gilbird to startle out of his sleep and look around for the scource while chirping out loud.

"Oh noes, my pasta!" He shouted desperatly, his eyes dwelling up with tears as he pressed his hands on both sides of his head.

"He resorts to use American slangs, if he is upset," West explained making it sound like something usual.

"That's... awesome!" I cried out, punching out my fist in the air, but hurriedly pulling it back in agony – yes, agony – as I my fist connected with the ceiling which _usually protects_ the people in the car from the wind. God, I am so awesome. West sighed in exasperation, concentrating on the road, then led the car to a giant and broad office block not far away from the centre of Berlin.

"Wh- what just happened?" Italy asked in a drowsy tone and wiped away the weariness and tears in his eyes. Seriously, this guy is too cute for Ludwig.

"We're here, if you may have noticed," Germany answered matter-of-factly.

He parked _my_ car between two other ones, one very old green Jaguar E Cabrio and a brand-new silver Peugeot 308 CC.

_Dude, _I just thought and looked over to the old one, which seemed like it could fall apart any second. _The owner is surely an old perverted man who likes little boys._

* * *

Finished chapter is finished. orz

I am sorry. This chapter only shows a small amount of the huge (elephant) plot I planned. And it is surely full of nasty little mistakes.

Guess who the owners of this Jaguar E Cabrio and that Peugeot 308 CC are.

I tried to make this chapter stuffed with Emo - ness (if this word exists) , so that it would almost puke, but I failed. Like, totally. Instead, Prussia's awesomeness seized it.

Oh Prussia, you and your perverted old men.

**You want some explanations? **

So Germany said, "Steh' auf, Bruder! Weißt du, wie spät es ist? Halb Sechs!", which means "Wake up (literally: Stand up), Brother! Do you know what time it is? Half past five!"

"Nein, West, aus!" You could say here "Stop that, West!"

Germans use this "aus" here when they want their pets (e.g. dogs) to stop doing something. It is fun to say that. Especially to a human. Or in this case to a country.

Preußen - Prussia of course (We still use that damn 'ß'. My teacher would die from a heart attack, if she saw this.)

Bruder - Brother

Wo zur Hölle sind meine Handschuhe? - Where the hell are my gloves? (between some porn and dirty clothes)

Hühner - plural form of chicken (singular form: Huhn)


End file.
